travel: ‘entitled’ – challenging people of color to “explore the world as if it were their playground.”

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Did I ever think that I’d be joining a group of Afrikaans bikers on a road trip through South Africa’s Free State? No, but I’m glad I said yes when the opportunity arose. Last weekend was the BMW Motoraad, the first event of its kind in South Africa. I was invited to follow a group of bikers who were doing social media and promotions for the event on a road trip from Johannesburg to Clarens. The plan was to camp for two nights in Golden Gate National Park and then head into town for the Motoraad festivities.
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approached the situation as I did with many opportunities I’ve had during my travels around the world. I ask one question: Is it safe? As a black traveler this question is a bit more nuanced than whether or not it’s a war zone. I have to establish that it’s an environment where I won’t be met with hostility or racism. I did a bit of research—a mixture of reading previously written articles and Facebook stalking—and determined that I’d say “yes.”

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I can’t lie, I was very aware of my blackness on this trip. I was the only black woman (there was one black male photographer) on a trip in a country where Afrikaans people are notorious for being the largest cultural group clinging to the Apartheid mentality. On top of that, these guys were bikers. My American associations with white bikers is dominated by racism. But these guys were not that. I had an incredible time. It was one of the best experiences I’ve had traveling. I felt at home.

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Over breakfast one morning, I spoke with a couple of the guys about how BMW hoped that the content we produced would attract a younger, more racially diverse crowd in the years to come. We joked about making sure we got close-ups of all of the Asian and black people in the audience to make it look like there were more than just a handful of people of color in attendance.

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Then the conversation took a more serious turn. We talked about the challenges of making people of color feel comfortable in situations that are traditionally for white people. I noted that often times it’s not that black people aren’t interested in the experience, it’s that they’re unsure if they’ll be well received. Why travel four hours from Johannesburg, and spend hundreds of dollars, only to be met with hostility? One of the cameramen responded, saying that it then becomes the white person’s responsibility to let people of color know that they’re welcome.

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To a certain extent this is true. Being greeted by smiling white faces certainly made me at ease when I got into the crew car as we started the trip. But smiling white faces didn’t make me say “yes” to the experience. My sense of entitlement did. For me, it’s never a question of if the situation is meant “for” me. It’s “for” me if I want to go. It’s “for” me if I feel I’ll learn and grow from it. It’s “for” me if it piques my interest. I ask one question: “is it safe?” Not, “am I going to see other black faces”, or “will they have a place where I can get my hair done if I get caught in the rain?”

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My sense of entitlement makes me say “yes,” and that’s why I have ten new biker Afrikaans friends. That’s why I’ve learned about all sorts of cuisine I never had while in Johannesburg, hanging with my group of black millennial friends. That’s why my eyes are open in new ways to all perspectives and understandings of race relations in this country. It’s the entitlement I feel that has opened doors.

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* Kyla McMillan is a freelance writer and editor who explores topics including visual arts and culture, and racial identity. She’s an American, currently based in Johannesburg, South Africa, who travels often and shares her experiences with her audience. You can read her stories at kylaspeaks.com